In My Shoes
by Brin
Summary: What's it like to be an X5? To go through the things they went through?
1. Brin

Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters in this story that appear in the hit syndicated TV show, Dark Angel, which are owned by James Cameron.

Summary: Just what _does_ it feel like to be an X5? To go through they things they went through?

A/N: This might just be a standalone, I dunno. I've got what… four, five, six, seven stories going at the same time? Yep, my writer's ADD at work there… 

**In**** My Shoes**

By

Brin 

"But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near." - Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)

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BRIN

It started as a dull pain in my head. Just a regular old pain – like a headache coming on, or sinus pressure… but it didn't stay that way long. I remember it like it was yesterday, and I have lost count of the days that have passed since as I stare out upon this bleak gray world. The pains came and went for some time – approximately three days, in fact – and I all but ignored them.

On the fourth day of what would be my life-defining struggle, I woke up feeling smoldering hot, like I was on fire. I had kicked off the covers during the night. My entire body was drenched in sweat and I was positively simmering in it. I jumped into my shower, which was icy cold as always, and stayed there for hours. The biting cold water soothed my blazing skin and helped with the pounding of my head. My temperature didn't return to normal until late into the afternoon, and I still felt a little flushed so I turned on my air conditioner.

That night I was fixing myself a frozen TV dinner when I began to feel hot again. I brushed it off as the heat from the microwave, but it grew and grew until I was in much the same state as I had been that morning. On top of that, my seizures started up. I never made it to the bottle of tryptophan sitting on my counter.

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I woke up in a local hospital. The old lady who lived downstairs heard me fall and called an ambulance when she found me, seizing and delirious on the floor. I remember being hooked up to several different machines. A nurse was hovering over me, checking the monitors with worried blue eyes. The doctor stood in one corner of the room, looking over what I assumed was my blood work.

"It's amazing she's still alive with this temperature," commented the nurse. "115! I don't think she's going to live much longer, doctor."

"There's something different about this girl, all right. I've contacted several health facilities across the nation and dropped word in my pool of informants. Her blood work is remarkable!" replied the doctor, ignoring the nurse's worries.

They both saw me looking at them with bleary eyes and the nurse put her hand on my forehead. "You need to go back to sleep, dearie. Everything will be fine."

I felt like a piece of scrap metal that had been heated to unthinkable temperatures and then hammered into whatever shape someone wishes. My temples were throbbing, my head ready to explode. My skin was on fire. I was tired as hell. I knew I was dying. I could feel it. Deep inside I felt as if something was growing inside me, something spreading across my body, taking over my mind, a nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach…

The phone rang and the nurse answered it. "Hello?" A brief pause, then the nurse handed the phone to the doctor. "It's a man named Donald Lydecker."

Shit. My eyes flew open and I sat straight up in bed, pulling machines of shelves and needles out of my flesh. A brief gasp escaped my lips from the pain and I grabbed the nurse by the neck with one hand, lifting her off the ground. "Hang up the phone," I croaked at the doctor threateningly. "Do it or I'll break her neck."

The doctor immediately pressed the 'off' button, but by the look on his face I knew it was too late. I tossed the nurse to the floor and tried to make a run for it, but the moment I put my foot on the ground I knew I was in trouble. My legs gave out beneath me and I stumbled to the floor, hitting my head on a nearby machine that had dropped from its shelf. That didn't quite take me out, but before I could get up something stabbed me in the arm. I looked up at the doctor and the last thing I remember seeing was the satisfied look on his face as he held a syringe. Then, I blacked out.

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"You will be handsomely rewarded for turning her in to me. My men and I can take it from here."

I didn't dare open my eyes for fear he would know I was awake and put me back under. I didn't even _have_ to open my eyes. I knew that voice, that voice that had haunted my dreams and plagued my mind since I was a child. Lydecker, the number one specter in my life. Judging by his voice, I could tell he was standing a few feet away. I tried to shift, but I was shackled to the bed with iron chains… or, at least, the chains were iron. The ring that held me down to the hospital bed was plastic.

Bad idea, Deck.

I waited until he had finished making negotiations with the unsuspecting doctor. I knew Lydecker would kill the greedy bastard once he had me back at Manticore. I could predict everything that Lydecker would do in this situation, because that was his own downfall – he had a pattern. At Manticore, we had been taught to vary our routine attacks so that our enemy would not find a counterattack easily… but Deck must've been slacking. I knew without looking that he had two armed men standing behind him, four waiting outside the door, and several more undercover around the hospital. I knew that he had an armored van parked outside, guarded by four more heavily armed soldiers and steel shackles waiting for me inside that. From there I would be transported to a helicopter and returned to Manticore.

But I was not going to go quietly.

"Thank you, doctor. Your money is being put into your account as we speak," concluded Lydecker.

I heard the doctor leave, and then I made my move. Jerking my arms and legs upward, I easily broke the plastic rings. Caught off-guard, the two soldiers scrambled to stop me. I punched the first in the nose, then wrapped my chains around the second's neck and crushed his esophagus. He fell sputtering to the floor and I turned on Deck, who had his gun trained on my head.

"Don't move, Brin. I don't want to kill you," he warned, though I could see the perpetual fear in his eyes. He was terrified of what I could and/or would do to him.

The feeling was mutual.

I lunged at him from the bed, narrowly avoiding getting shot in the side as I struck him full-force. We toppled onto the ground and I bashed his head against the floor twice before the other soldiers keyed in to what was happening and burst into the room. I saw the confusion on their faces and guessed that none of them had been told whether or not to use deadly force, so I took advantage of it. I grabbed Deck's gun and shot them all, one after another. They never had a chance.

As I staggered from the room, covered in Lydecker's blood, the pain hit me full-force again. My knees were like jelly, my arms and hands shaking uncontrollably. It hurt so bad. I punched a nurse who tried to stop me and raided their prescription drug storage room, taking a few bottles of tryptophan. I swallowed a handful of the pills dry and stopped shaking, but I was still weak from whatever the hell the doctor had injected me with. On top of that, I felt hot again.

Pushing my way past crowds of people, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the icy cold night air hit me in the face. Rain poured down on me and I threw my head back to try and quench my thirst. Before I could even get my parched mouth wet, though, a few of Lydecker's men charged at me. I looked at them and blurred forward, grabbing the gun of one and shooting the other in the thigh. He went down and I took his gun as well, slinging them over my shoulder. More were coming. I frantically looked around for an escape, but didn't have to look very far. An ambulance was driving towards me. I stepped back so that the vehicle passed safely in front of me (between the bad guys and me, that is) then jumped up and held onto the roof. The ambulance carried me away safely, though I could hear shouts of confusion and gunshots as I rode away.

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I jumped off of the ambulance a few miles away from the hospital. Looking around, I noted that I was on the northern end of Los Angeles. I had to keep moving, had to keep running. I hijacked a motorcycle and rode it hard and fast out of Los Angeles, away from Lydecker. The last time I had talked to him, Zack was in Seattle. I needed to find him. He was the only one who could clean this up.

Of course, I should've known that Lydecker would never be that easy on me.

About three miles out of Seattle, just as the sun started coming up over the horizon, I heard the one thing I had been dreading the entire trip: helicopters.

I didn't even have to look back as the bright spotlight illuminated the ground around me. I pressed on the gas, but it was no use. Soon they were directly above my head. I could feel the air swirling in a twister around me.

"You there! Stop your vehicle! Stop your vehicle right now, or we will use forceful means to stop you!" yelled a man through a megaphone.

In response, I pushed the motorcycle to the limit. Two more miles to go.

"This is your last warning! Stop your vehicle and put your hands on your head or we will use forceful means to stop you!"

I still had the two automatics I had stolen from the soldiers earlier. I pulled one off my shoulder and aimed it at the helicopter's cockpit. Holding onto the gun with one hand and keeping control of my motorcycle were things not meant to be done at the same time, so when I pulled the trigger my 'cycle swerved. I was lucky it did, because at that moment they started shooting back at me. If I had been where I was before, they would've blown out my tires and that would've been it for me… but now I had the advantage. Keeping slight control of my motorcycle, but still letting it swerve back and forth, I shot at the chopper. At first it seemed hopeless, but as I got the hang of it my aim improved. Finally, I hit my mark – the cockpit. I saw the pilot scream as the bullet hit him in the neck, then the copilot slumped against his seat, a bullet lodged in his brain. There were five more soldiers on that helicopter, but it was too late – the thing went down in a ball of fire and I continued on to Seattle.

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I stole clothes from a 24-hour store, then headed down a dark alley to look for a place to rest. I was throbbing all over, and terribly _hot._ When I saw _Senor Fico's_ shop, I had all but given up on surviving through the night. X5s don't just get sick… they get terminally ill. I broke into the shop, staggering through the aisles, looking for something, though I wasn't sure what it was until I found it – a freezer. Not even thinking, I broke off the padlock – nearly breaking my hand in the process – and went inside. The mist billowed around my feet and I immediately felt better.

Sitting down in a corner against the cardboard boxes, I looked around the freezer once before laying my head back and falling fast asleep…

CONTINUE ON TO: _COLD COMFORT_

A/N: So watcha think?


	2. Jondy

Disclaimer: I don't any of the characters in this story that appear in the hit syndicated TV show, Dark Angel, which are owned by James Cameron.

Summary: Just what _does_ it feel like to be an X5? To go through they things they went through?

**In** **My** **Shoes**

By

Brin 

"Everything has been figured out, except how to live." - Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JONDY

God, but it hurt!

I staggered down the stairs of my apartment building, teeth grinding together, head spinning, eyes bulging. I must've looked like a fucked up druggy, because several people loitering around in the lobby quickly made their exit as I made an unsuccessful attempt to walk out the door without falling.

_Bat your eyes girl,_ _be otherworldly,_

_count your blessings, seduce a stranger._

_What's so wrong with being happy?_

_Kudos to those who see_ _through sickness._

My jaw collided with the cold hard pavement, my teeth just barely avoiding biting my tongue in half. A shock of pain hits me on contact, then it spreads to the rest of my body and settles in my head. I lay there for a few minutes, just trying to breathe, as my body shook and tensed with seizures. Imagine someone grabbing a hold of your shoulders and shaking you until you pass out – that's what a seizure feels like, but without the passing out. My chest tightens with pain.

Using the doorknob to pull myself up, I rise to shaking feet and look around the dark street. It's rather quiet aside from the whores standing on the corner and, thankfully, the 24-hour illegal pharmacy across the street, disguised as a trinket store. Hoping and praying that no car will choose this moment to race down the street, I stumble across the pavement, but I take no more than five steps before I collapse once again. This time I extend my arms to catch my fall, and the pain stabs into my hands like heated steel rods.

_When she woke_ _in the morning_

_she knew that her life had passed her by._

_And she called out a warning,_

_"Don't ever_ _let life pass you by."_

"Aaaah," I can hear the sound leave my lips through gritted teeth. Blood seeps from several cuts on my palms and I notice the presence of blood on my neck as well, dripping down from my jaw.

I never should've gone this long without taking my vitamins. It was stupid of me to think that since I have been able to keep my seizures under control for so long that I could get away without taking the very substance that kept them controlled. Zack had warned me against getting comfortable, but I hadn't listened. I never listen to him… or anyone, for that matter. I was set on becoming a 'normal' girl, but those stupid pills were holding me back. They are a constant reminder of the fact that I'm never going to be normal… and I had to get rid of them before they drove me to insanity.

_I suggest we learn to love_ _ourselves before it's made illegal._

_When will we learn? When will we change?_

_Just in time to see it all fall down._

_Those left standing... will make millions... _

_writing books on the_ _way it should have been._

The smog-filled sky looks down at me, and I can practically hear its laughter. Yes, I'm a stupid girl. I'm a stupid slut with no future and a past that is ready to jump out and swallow me up. I can almost hear the berating. My eyes close, but my ears are ringing and my skin burns. Sweat beads form on my face and neck, mingling with blood and tears that I never intended to be there.

I could have and would have lain like that, content to die, had a group of street racers not chosen that moment to blaze down my street, lights flashing and music blaring. My head rose and I looked at them, coming towards me without a second thought. Considering how my body felt, I could have thanked them for killing me – but I didn't let them. I rolled out of the way at the last moment and they sped on, content with the fact that they had not killed me – this night, at least.

Ever since I escaped Manticore, I have been one of those barely-making it girls. I went through forty-seven foster families in three years and, when I turned fourteen, I ran off to San Francisco. After the Pulse, it wasn't hard for a girl to lie about her age to get a job. It wasn't hard to find a job, since competent workers were becoming harder to get. So I became Jenny the bartender at the gay bar on a dark, seedy street, and, for the most part, I thought I was happy.

_When she woke in the morning_

_she knew that her life had passed her by._

_And she called out a warning,_

_"Don't ever let life pass you by."_

That is, until Zack came and warned me of my lifestyle. I had cut my hair very short so that I wouldn't overheat in the bar, exposing my barcode for the world to see. I had brushed him off with a promise to cover it up – and I did. I covered it with makeup, usually, but after awhile I decided it was too much work and grew out my hair again. By then, I was sixteen and being intently observed by my employers. I was very, very well-developed for my age, and had a naturally fit body. They approached me one night after work and asked me to dance for them… and overnight I went from Jenny the bartender to Jenny the pole dancer.

Maybe I got off on showing people what they can't have, or maybe I just liked being able to use my body for something other than bashing heads… whatever it was, I thoroughly enjoyed my job… until that day when Zane came in looking for me. He hadn't known what was coming, and I hadn't known he was there until my top was off and my panties were filled with twenties. In fact, I'm pretty sure I had tried to dance for him before I realized who it was. He had looked at me like scum on the bottom of his shoe… and I felt horrible.

_Floating in this cosmic jacuzzi_

_we are like frogs oblivious to the water starting to boil._

_No one flinches, we all float face down._

So I quit my job and became Jenny the unemployed trouble-maker. I do part-time cat burglaries for some high-paying people and sometimes I go back to the bar for part-time tending, but otherwise all I do is sulk and mope these days.

"Hey!" someone yells at me, catching my attention.

I look up, but as soon as I pull from my thoughtful reverie, the pain hits me again. I am pretty sure that being shot in the chest wouldn't be as painful as what I am going through right now. Blood is still leaking freely from my jaw, which I'm sure is cracked, and the ragged flesh of my hands sting like burns.

"Jondy," whispers a voice, and then a head appears above me.

My eyes have blurred from the pain. I can't feel my arms. I think I broke my hands. If someone were to attack me right now, I'd die trying to defend myself.

"It's me, Fin," continues the voice.

I wrack my brain as a bell rings in my mind. Fin… I remember him. Fin, one of my sisters from Manticore. She was good friends with Brin because their names rhymed… "Fin?" I blink the tears from my eyes, only to find that they won't go away. Is it raining? Maybe it is. I can't even tell.

"Hey, big sister, what're you doing out here?" I feel her arms wrap around my shoulders and lift me into a sitting position. The seizures are getting more intense. My head is about to explode, or maybe implode? I can't even tell. It feels like someone is trying to crush my skull while at the same time trying to blow it up.

"H-h-h-h-el-p-p," I stutter through chattering teeth. What I wouldn't give for a glass of milk right now.

"Don't worry, big sister," says Fin, looking at me with cobalt-blue eyes. I recognize her now. Her long black hair falls onto my damp face. Her freckles, which were more prominent when we were kids, are now faded, but it's Fin alright. She pulls a bottle from her pocket. Tryptophan. If I had the strength, I would kiss the girl. "I got your back." She leans my upper body against her and tilts my head back so that my mouth opens a bit, then taps a few pills in.

For a moment, I'm afraid I'm going to choke and die on them, but they go down with a struggle and I close my eyes to wait for the effects. They come slowly, but I am thankful that they do. It starts in my hands – they stop shaking – then moves as slowly as dripping honey to my arms, my chest, my legs… and then I'm free, besides a splitting headache and numb hands. I look up at Fin and smile. "Thanks."

_When she woke in the morning_

_she knew that her life had passed her by._

_And she called out a warning,_

_"Don't ever let life pass you by."_

She helps me stand and up to my apartment, where she lays me on the couch, placing a light kiss on my forehead. Damn, I miss them – all of them. I'm so glad to see Fin, but I feel a bit shameful that I would rather see Max than her. I should be glad to see any of them. I don't even know if most of them are still alive. I've only been in contact with Zane, Zack, and now Fin. That's three out of the only thirteen to ever escape Manticore.

Not a very good record.

"Drink this, big sister," says Fin as she sits down and hands me a glass of water, along with some aspirin. She has something in her hand, but I'm too tired to see what it is. Seizures really sap the life out of you – they aren't just painful, they're exhausting as well. Imagine being forced to run on a treadmill for hours on end and you have the feeling of uncontrolled seizures.

"Thanks," I whisper again, my voice barely audible. I lean my head back against the arm of the couch, eyes closing.

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The next thing I know, I wake up because the sun is shining through my window onto my eyes. My body feels like hell. Despite that, I sit up and look around. Fin is nowhere in sight, but there's a note sitting on my coffee table. Saddened, I lean forward and pick it up. It reads:

_Dear Jondy,_

_Sorry for skipping town so quickly, but I had to go meet up with Lee in LA._

_Talk to you later,_

_Fin_

I put the note back and sigh. Maybe I should go back to being Jenny the bartender. After all, what's living without a life?


End file.
